Chapter 29
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The beginning of an invisible kingdom.
Who knew that learning magic would involve playing with fire?
“Cael’s stinky and stupid and mean, and I think we should rise up against him, topple his princedom, and free all those poor losers he’s conned into taking his oath.” Frelsi sits on the dining room table, shredding through a grape the size of a watermelon in her arms.
I smile, take a bite of my own food, and return my focus to the candle before me.
This morning when I woke up in what I’d consider a bearable amount of pain—compared to yesterday, anyway—I asked Castor if we could restart magic lessons.
He seemed hesitant, given that he could tell I was still under mild amounts of duress, but inevitably he agreed. And gave me this candle. And told me to work on rewriting my human fear of flames.
So.
I can conclude that I am some kind of fiery faerie.
Maybe a fire nymph? Or a salamander? Aren’t those giant mythological lizard creatures?
If Castor is a basilisk and affiliated somehow with snakes even though he’s person-shaped right now, maybe I’m also something linked to a reptile.
It would pair well with him, and I like salamanders well enough.
They’re pretty cute. I wonder if I can learn how to turn into one like Zylus can turn into a cat.
“King Castor,” Frelsi states, “I would like some paper and crayons. I will use them to depict your mighty army laying waste to the moths, then I will take it upon myself to chart your monarchy. No gratitude is required, but an offering of sweets would do well.”
“As you see fit,” Castor notes, smiling into his bite of breakfast casserole. “I shall make sure you have what you need for such a respectable undertaking.”
Frelsi’s wings flit, merrily, and she twists toward me. “What’s a group of snakes called? We need a fancy name for our subjects!”
I hum, reach to pull my phone out of my pocket, and find my Safari search interrupted by Castor’s low voice. “A bed, a pit, a den, a nest, a slither, a ball…there are many options, none of them particularly inviting or pleasant like Cael’s ever-so-romantic eclipse, though.”
Frelsi’s nose wrinkles. “Why would you want to be like that guy? He sucks.”
I offer, “Slither is cute.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t exactly imply unity or togetherness—a full cloaking of light.” Castor lifts his pedestal glass. “I’d like a name that resonates with our mannerisms, given that I believe it will only ever refer to those present at this precise moment.”
I resume my internet search. Then I giggle. “Penguins are called a waddle.”
“Are they now?” Castor exhales a short laugh. “That’s delightful. I shall not be.”
I find myself smiling with him. “How about a muddle? That’s guinea pigs.”
Frelsi falls over laughing. “Muddle!”
Castor murmurs, “What, pray tell, did you type in?”
I beam. “Cute collective nouns!”
“Ah.” His head shakes. “Try, perhaps, cool instead.”
I do so. “A conspiracy!”
“Which are?” he prompts.
I murmur, “Lemurs.” Very cute animals, lemurs. Very conspiratory, too, now that I’m thinking about it. They have judgy eyes and look like prison cousins to the infamous raccoon.
“Maybe not,” Castor suggests, sweetly.
Because he’s sweet. Sweet and chaos and…
I try looking up collective nouns for birds.
“Pandemonium,” I say.
Frelsi launches upright. “Ooh.”
Lifting my attention to my soulmate, I ask, “What do you think of that one?”
Low and slow and steady, Castor recites every consonant and vowel, echoing, “Pandemonium… Wild and noisy. An uproar.”
“Chaos,” I say. “A charming word for chaos, which is a wonderful word for freedom.”
He nods, abiding. “I like it.”
“It’s cool and cute!” Frelsi cheers. “Perfect. Now, rules. All good kingdoms have rules. And taxes! Should we charge our subjects to pay their homage to us in sweets?”
“Why, what would we do with all that sugar?” Castor ponders, sarcastic. As we have not a single subject to provide us with a drop of sugar.
Frelsi does not seem to register the sarcasm. Very seriously, she looks at him and says, “I will eat it all.”
“Why are you so sweets-oriented, hatchling?” he asks.
Chipper as a parrot, she says, “Sugar makes my brain go bzzzt!”
He hums. “No one introduce her to caffeine.”
If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure she couldn’t be medicated on the stuff like some people with ADHD are. Nevertheless, I share Castor’s unwillingness to find out right at the moment whether it would help or make things ten times worse.
While the two of them continue discussing customs and laws and matters of government, I return my attention to the flickering flame of the candle before me and take another bite of my food.
Many human warnings in my head suggest I shouldn’t put my entire hand into the fire.
When I ignore those warnings and inch toward the flicker, I find it warm.
I get closer; it becomes hot. Closer, and it threatens to burn me, because it’s not whatever magic fire erupted from my own hands the other day.
That fire startled me, and my brain swore it hurt.
For some reason, this fire is even more dangerous, because this fire is other.
In a daring attempt, I lift my nail to it and wince as the heat scathes. Pulling back, I stare at my finger and use what magic I’ve already learned to heal the burn, except nothing happens, because I haven’t actually been burned.
“It’s mental,” Castor notes, breaking from his conversation with Frelsi.
“You aren’t hurt. And it’s not hot.” He lifts his chin.
“However, I do have an idea. If this is rough for you to overcome, perhaps I could tie you up in a pyre and light it around you? That way, you’ll be forced to adjust and your mind won’t be able to stop you because you’ll be stuck. ”
I stare at him. “You’re…offering to burn me like a Salem witch?”
He tilts his head. “No, of course not. Witches aren’t real, and you won’t burn.”
I think witches aren’t real is the most shocking news I’ve heard since we met.
Silence sweeps in between us, stealing long moments before Castor lowers his attention and pokes at his meal. “Now that I’m thinking about it more, mayhaps my suggestion is a touch harsh. For many, such an experience would align with torture, and you are still recovering.”
Yes, it would, and, yes, I am.
But I am also not many. As far as I can tell this is a solution. If I can’t run from the fear, I’ll be forced to embrace this step forward. I’ll adjust. I’ll get closer to my true self and the magic I hold. I’ll be able to move on to the next step.
I would, however, be lying if I say my motivation lies purely in logic, though.
Right now, I could tie you up is on repeat in my head, taunting and teasing with forbidden allure. The likes of which I shouldn’t be entertaining while my hormones are so off kilter.
Clearing my throat, I dwell on the productive aspect and nod oh-so-politely. “I think it’s an excellent solution. Tie me—” I cough. “I mean. Light me on fire. It sounds very…hot.”
Hot, definition three, but who’s keeping track?
Judging by the way Castor’s lips stretch, I think he might be.
“Truly?” he asks, seduction incarnate. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“If it becomes a very bad idea, you’ll know and be able to save me, won’t you?” I stop looking at his sly expression and cut a strawberry from my fruit bowl in half. “You’ll be able to tell what my limit is thanks to our bond, right?”
He hums into his glass. “I can tell a great many things thanks to our bond, Mine. Including what you’re feeling right now. The aroma of your emotions hints at your thoughts, and I find myself quite enamored by it all at present.”
I flush.
“That’s not fair!” Frelsi complains. “I want a bond with Dani, too!”
Dropping all suggestion, Castor says, “When you’re older, you’ll have one with someone else, and understand this, hatchling, knowing that such a delight lies in your future is a blessing you should never take for granted.”
Frelsi’s little face scrunches up. “I don’t get it.”
“One day you will.” Finishing his food and drink, Castor stands and retrieves the tie from his pocket.
Using it to draw back his long sleeves, he pulls the knot tight with his teeth and smiles, fully aware how intently I’m watching him.
Once situated, he says, “I’ll prepare the pyre by the woods between here and the Desolate Caverns.
Finish eating, then come meet me with the scrap bucket in the kitchen.
If any goblins try to give you trouble, tell them death awaits should they persist along their path, and that death will not be swift at my hand.
We can feed the redcaps some snacks after the burning. ”
I tilt my head. “Feed them scraps? Like they’re…ducks?”
Castor chuckles. “More like angry geese, but yes, that’s the concept.”
How fun.
“’Kay,” I say.
Frelsi lifts her hand high above her head, extra-knuckled fingers wiggling. “I would rather color than feed angry geese, please, King Castor, sir.”
Tender, Castor murmurs, “Understood, hatchling. I’ll take some supplies to Danielle’s cage for you to play with while we’re out.”
“Yay!” she cheers.
Yay, my heart echoes.
And I know, on some level, it’s the hormone roller coaster influencing my mood, but…right now, I could not be more content.